


of quiet birds in circled flight

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Series: Love and Other Fairytales [22]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Death, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 10:45:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18827068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: A nightmare can feel like it goes on and on forever.but eventually, you always wake up.





	of quiet birds in circled flight

**Author's Note:**

> title is from Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep by Mary Elizabeth Frye

Roman blinked several times. His eyelids were tacky and his vision was blurry. He shifted, but there was a weight pinning his shoulder. As soon as he moved, the weight was gone and a smudge of bright gold moved into his line of sight.

“Roman? Are you awake?”

Roman blinked a few more times until his vision cleared, Patton’s anxious face hovering mere inches from his own. Patton hand hadn’t moved from where it was pressed over the center of Roman’s chest.

It was… disorienting, looking at Patton. Two sets of memories overlapping – in one, the past two years spent aching for him, seeing him every day and knowing nothing would ever come of it.

In the other.

In the other, missing Patton and not even realizing until he’d actually seen him, like not noticing your arm had fallen asleep until you tried to moved it and the numb burn spread from your fingertips to your shoulder.

“Roman?” Patton prompted again.

“Hey,” said Roman thickly. He placed his hand over Patton’s.

Patton let out a shaky breath, slumping in relief.

“Hey back,” he said, his voice going a little higher. His head dropped until he pressed his forehead back to Roman’s shoulder. His own shoulders were shaking.

“Patton? What’s wrong?”

Patton sat up on his heels suddenly, looking down at Roman. His expression was furious, and his face was already tracked with tears.

“I am so-” he choked, sniffling.

“I’m so  _mad_  at you!” he wailed.

“Mad?” said Roman incredulously. He sat up as well – and took a bewildered moment to glance around the plain, unfamiliar room they were in, as well as the bed they sat on – and ran his hands up Patton’s arms.

“Why are you mad?”

Patton scrubbed furiously at his face.

“Dizzy snitched on you the  _second_  she knew you weren’t dead,” said Patton, a scowl twisting his normally soft face.

Roman went tense, and he smiled disarmingly.

“You can’t talk to Dizzy,”

“But Ms. Gage  _can_ ,” said Patton, “ _Roman_. You thought you were gonna  _die_ ,”

Roman swallowed.

“Yeah,” he said, “Yeah, I did,”

“And you were fine with that?”

Roman squeezed his eyes shut, unable to look at Patton’s miserable expression.

“It- it made sense. I didn’t think there was any other way,”

Patton placed his hands on Roman’s face, his thumbs running over Roman’s cheeks like he was trying to make sure Roman was real.

“That’s not okay, honey,” said Patton weakly, “That’s like. That’s ‘you need to see a doctor,’ not okay,”

“Oh, I’m sure that will go over well,” said Roman dryly, “Hello, Mr. Big-City-Psychiatrist, my name’s Roman Gage and I’m being harangued day and night by the fairies living in the woods behind my house. Would you like to hear about the crybaby I killed?”

Patton was laughing even though it was clear he was trying not to.

“Terrible, you’re terrible,” he said wetly.

Roman squeezed one of the hands on his face, and there was a brief flashbulb memory of panic, but it flickered out just as quick. The situation couldn’t have been more different.

“Speaking of things that aren’t okay,” he said gently, “You wanna talk about ordering yourself around,”

Patton actually snorted.

“Get in line,” he said a little flatly, “You’re only the fourth person,”

“Oh?”

Patton let go of Roman’s face to start ticking off his fingers, and the sharp twist of longing that rippled through Roman only just barely avoided making an actual noise come out of his throat.

“Virgil, but his was mostly technical-magic-words that I didn’t understand. Logan, who said a bunch of therapy-words that I didn’t understand, and, uh,” he cleared his throat, “And- White,”

Roman waited, but Patton just had a strange little frown on his face.

“Is that okay?” Roman said gently.

“I, um,” Patton shrugged a little helplessly, “I don’t really… know? She’s not… like I remember, really,”

Roman nodded. Patton’s frown smoothed, just a tad.

“She  _likes_  me,” he said, incredulous, “It’s… it’s  _super_  weird,”

“Everybody likes you,” said Roman automatically. Patton scoffed.

“Well, that’s just plain not-true,”

“Everybody who bothers to actually talk to you,” said Roman, “Everybody with taste. Everybody who’s got two brain cells to rub together,”

Patton was turning pink, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“ _Roman_ ,” he whined embarrassed. Roman slid closer, taking Patton’s hands in his own.

“Everybody who’s not a chickenshit,” he continued, beaming when Patton cackled, “Everybody, Patton. Everybody important,”

Patton smiled up at him, like a sunrise dawning on his face, and half of Roman had been pining after him and the other half had been missing him desperately, but all of him was in agreement at this exact moment.

“Hey, Patton?” he said hesitantly.

Patton hummed inquisitively.

“Feel free to tell me to back off,” said Roman.

Patton scrunched his nose in confusion.

“What do you-?”

Before he could lose his nerve, Roman quickly leaned in and pressed a feather-light kiss to Patton’s lips.

Or he tried to anyway.

Because pretty much the second he made contact, Patton surged forward, throwing his arms around Roman’s neck and kissing him back so enthusiastically that Roman had to jerk one hand down onto the bed to steady himself before he toppled over.

Patton couldn’t stop smiling long enough to kiss Roman properly, and Roman’s own face was mirroring him automatically. They were basically just giggling, borderline hysterical, pressing their faces together and occasionally meeting in a slanted half-kiss that quickly dissolved into more giggles.

“I missed you so much,” Roman blurted, still laughing.

“I missed you, too,” said Patton, which shouldn’t have made sense to Roman but definitely, definitely did.

“I do not know if they are- oh!”

Roman and Patton both turned to the door – which was  _open_ , Jesus, talk about embarrassing – where a clearly mortified Logan stood, the tips of his ears turning bright pink, a gently smirking Virgil behind him, looking at them over the top of Logan’s head.

“Ahem, uh- should we- would it be better for us to return later?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Roman. Patton didn’t say anything, just held out his hand and shook it insistently.

Logan’s whole face softened, and he didn’t hesitate another moment before stepping forward and squeezing Patton’s outstretched hand.

* * *

Virgil hovered in the doorway, watching. Roman reached out when Logan approached them, one hand on Logan’s forearm, a triangle of soft smiles and shining eyes. Virgil’s mouth twitched into a smile.

It was strange - knowing them and not knowing them. Not the way they knew each other. It was hard not to feel like an observer, especially now.

But then Roman looked back at the doorway, his eyebrows pulling together.

He held out his hand, gesturing insistently.

"You too, Peter Pouter, get in here,”

Virgil couldn’t resist the outstretched hand, slipping his fingers into Roman’s when he got close enough.

But Roman didn’t just hold his hand; he pulled it firmly, leaning out over the edge of the bed at the same time, and Virgil helplessly followed him until Roman had pressed their lips together.

Roman leaned back a little at a time, still tugging Virgil’s hand, coaxing and gentle, until Virgil was sitting sideways on the edge of the bed with Logan a sunlight-warm line against his back and Patton holding onto his other hand with a feather-soft and unbreakable grip.

“This is no-frowning zone,” said Roman softly, his mouth just a few inches from Virgil’s as he leaned their foreheads together.

Virgil snorted before he could stop himself.

“It’s my room,” he said, “I think I’m the authority,”

Roman looked surprised, glancing around.

“It’s… very plain,” he said, with a curious note in his voice.

Virgil waved a vague hand.

“I don’t much like the…  _frippery_  that comes with being gentry,”

“Stop,  _stop_ ,” said Roman immediately. “Did you just use the word 'frippery’ unironically?”

“Uh, yes?”

“Oh my god, we need to - that is  _not_  going to fly,”

“What? It’s a word!”

“Welcome to Roman 101,” said Logan sarcastically, “He frequently derides my vocabulary - it will be pleasant to no longer be the only one,”

A zip of elation went through Virgil’s chest, and Logan must have realized the implication of what he’d said because his ears flushed once more and he immediately focused on the wall.

“Oh, whatever,” said Roman, “Why are we in fairyland anyway? How long was I out?”

“Most of the day,” said Patton, “It’s late afternoon. Virgil’s been trying to get the Court back under control,”

“And none of the Seelie will talk to me if Logan’s not standing right there,” said Virgil dryly.

Roman kicked Logan lightly, delighted. Logan swatted his foot.

“The Unseelie are pretty furious, but it’s after the equinox and the Seelie outmatch them at the moment,” said Virgil, “If I can get them to simmer down before autumn it’ll be fine. Probably,”

He paused.

“And I should be able to take them in a fight by then anyway,”

Roman snorted, and Patton gave a gentle, admonishing squeeze to Virgil’s hand.

Roman face turned a little strange, then sort of hesitant, and maybe a bit sad.

“And, um… the- the king?”

Patton visibly recoiled, and Logan flinched almost imperceptibly. Virgil didn’t react, but it was a near thing.

“Dead,” he said quietly, “Greta killed him,”

He didn’t elaborate, because he was certain Roman didn’t want the details.  _Virgil_  wouldn’t want the details, would gladly wipe them from his mind, and he’d hated his brother.

Roman blew a long breath out of his mouth, a look of intense thought on his face.

“Do you feel alright?“ said Patton gently.

"I don’t… know,” said Roman, his voice just barely shaking.

Patton squeezed his hand.

“I’m- definitely, definitely sad?” said Roman, but he didn’t sound quite sure, “But I’m also… kind of relieved, which is, um- probably the more telling, of the two emotions, I would think,”

Patton lurched forward, his arms wrapping tightly around Roman’s torso. Roman slumped, his head and hand both finding their way to bury themselves in Patton’s hair.

“So… so it’s over?” asked Roman.

Virgil flinched that time. It was Logan who answered though.

“No,” he said, “There is one more thing,”

She was easy to spot, when they got to Fletcher Graveyard. Smaller maybe, but still a huge mass of gray scales curled on the edge of the forest around her headstone. Virgil felt nauseous and lightheaded.

Patton led the way, with Virgil and the other two trailing behind. Logan was holding Virgil’s hand, tapping out a steady beat with his thumb.

He thought she might be sleeping. She didn’t move even as they arrived right next to her. Trying - and failing - to keep his voice steady, Virgil called out.

“Grettie?”

The shift was near instantaneous; the dragon sat up, rapidly shrinking as it moved – and then she was right there.

She was sitting on the ground, leaning against the headstone - younger than he remembered actually, about the age she’d had Trudi. She had his knife in her hand, picking at her nails, and a furious expression on her face. She didn’t look up.

“That’s a good knife you’re using to give yourself a manicure,” he said, trying for levity.

Her mouth twitched, and she turned towards him.

“You'r **e**  w **e** lcom **e**  to h **a** v **e**  it b **a** ck,  _Brud **e** rspinn **e**_ , if you'r **e**  willing to dig for it,” she said dryly.

Virgil recoiled automatically.

Her expression shuttered, and then she-  _flickered_.

Then she was tiny, not a day older than when he’d met her, fourteen and all knobby limbs. She smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry,” she said, “I- th **a** t sound **e** d funni **e** r in my h **ea** d,”

“Most of your jokes do,” he croaked.

Greta laughed, and Virgil’s chest tightened.

She set her chin her knees, watching them.

“Wh **a** t the h **e** ll  **a** r **e**  you w **ea** ring?” she said, soft and incredulous.

And that? That was too much.

Virgil pulled his hand out of Logan’s, walking determinedly forward, and Greta must have realized what he was doing because she tried to scoot backwards.

“ **No** , you idio **t** , don’ **t** -”

Virgil grabbed her hand.

It was like sticking his arm into open flame and biting down on metal at the same time, a quick jolt of overwhelming discomfort that lasted maybe three seconds, before smoothing out into merely a faint ringing in his ears. Greta was staring at him, gobsmacked.

And then tears started rolling down her face.

“You'r **e**  so  _s **t** upid_!” she choked out, and when the tears slipped off her cheeks they vanished before they hit the ground. Virgil pulled down his sleeve and wiped her face anyway.

“You have  _no room_  to talk about stupid, brat,”

“Oh, shu **t**  up,” she grumbled. She sniffed angrily, wiping her own face of the incorporeal tears.

She shook herself, trying to regain some of her composure. A  _flicker_ , and she was the age he remembered, her hair barely graying at the temples.

“W **e** ll?” she said, “Introduc **e**  m **e**  to your har **e** m alr **ea** dy, you’r **e**  b **e** ing v **e** ry rud **e** ,”

Virgil squawked, shoving her shoulder.

“Oh my- shut  _up,”_

“I will do no such thing, you didn’t l **ea** ve Toby  **a** lon **e**  for  **a** singl **e** moment  **a** ny tim **e**  you w **e** r **e**  in the s **a** m **e**  room. I c **a** n s **a** y  _wh **a** t **e** v **e** r_ I w **a** nt  **a** nd you know it,”

Virgil could hear Patton giggling behind him, and when he turned even Logan was trying hard not to react. Virgil gestured them closer.

“This is my sister, Greta, also known as ‘Pain-in-the-ass’,”

“Don’t m **a** k **e**  m **e**  h **e** x you,”

“Greta, this is Patton,”

Patton waved, and a  _flicker,_ and she was a little bit older, crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes.

“H **e** llo, P **a** tton,”

“Hello, Mrs. Fischer,” Patton replied.

“Th **a** nk you for visiting,” she said, “It w **a** s v **e** ry lon **e** ly **a** round h **e** r **e** , b **e** for **e**  you show **e** d up,”

Patton flushed, nodding and taking a step back.

“And this is Roman,”

She turned, and there was another  _flicker,_  and-  _oh._

She was  _old,_  so old, her hair completely white and her face lined with deep wrinkles. Virgil’s grip on her hand had surely become painful.

“ _You_ ,” she croaked, “You’r **e**  M **a** y’s boy. I’d know thos **e**   **e** y **e** s **a** nywh **e** r **e** ,”

Roman grinned.

“Guilty as charged,” he replied, “It’s nice to meet you. Hope you don’t mind if I dont call you grandma,”

_Flicker_ , fourteen again, and something unclenched Virgil’s chest. The sheer revulsion on her face made him laugh out loud.

“Pl **ea** s **e**  do not m **a** k **e**  m **e**  think  **a** bout th **a** t,” she said, disgusted.

“And this is Logan,”

Logan made an aborted movement, like he might be about to offer her a handshake but changed his mind at the last second and turned it into a half-hearted wave.

“Salutations,” he said woodenly.

Greta tilted her head, confused.

And then her face lit up, and she started outright  _cackling_.

Logan turned pink and Virgil frowned, elbowing her in disapproval.

“Oh, th **a** nk  _ **E** v **e**_   **a** nd **a** ll h **e** r d **a** ught **e** rs _,_ ” said Greta.

“What?” said Virgil.

She turned, grinning, and Virgil realized more tears had gathered in the corners of her eyes.

“Wh **a** t, did you think I w **a** s  _ **e** xcit **e** d_  **a** bout som **e** d **a** y dying and l **ea** ving you  **a** ll  **a** lon **e**?” she choked, and Virgil went rigid.

“ **E** v **e** n Trudi, ‘ _Mutti_ , wh **a** t will h **a** pp **e** n to  _Brud **e** rspinn **e**_  wh **e** n w **e**  di **e**?’ - I couldn’t  **e** v **e** n think **a** bout it most d **a** ys without f **ee** ling like I w **a** s going to f **a** int,”

She tilted her head back against the grave, still grinning.

“No,  **t** his is-  **t** his is good,” she said. “B **e** tt **e** r,  **e** v **e** n. You g **a** in **e** d mor **e** th **a** n you lost,”

“I wouldn’t have  _traded_  you,” snapped Virgil.

“I know,” she said, squeezing, “But this is th **e**  h **a** nd w **e** ’r **e**  d **ea** lt. It’s  **a** good on **e**. You know it,”

Virgil throat was closing up.

She seemed like a huge weight had lifted off her shoulders. She’d gone a little more faint at the edges, like she was wisping away a little at a time.

“I think I’m r **ea** dy to go,” she said softly.

“Yeah?” croaked Virgil.

“Y **e** s,” she nodded, “I miss my Toby. Trudi.  **A** nd…,”

She swallowed thickly.

“… **a** nd I  **a** m v **e** ry,  _v **e** ry_ tir **e** d,  _Brud **e** rspinn **e**_ ,”

“Alright,” he said. His voice was barely there, weak and faint. “That’s- alright,”

“P **a** tton?” said Greta, a  _flicker_ , an adult again. She smiled encouragingly.

“Do you think you could giv **e**  m **e a**  little push, d **ea** r?”

Patton nodded, and he was already crying openly. He scrubbed his face, taking a step forward and clearing his throat.

Greta squeezed Virgil’s hand once more, nearly bruising, and Virgil didn’t close his eyes.

“Lov **e**  you,” she said softly.

“Love you too, you menace,” he choked.

Patton’s eyes darted between them. Greta nodded, and after an aching pause, Virgil did too.

Patton inhaled shakily.

“Okay,” he whispered.

Greta leaned over and pressed a tiny kiss to Virgil’s temple. Virgil felt his eyes flood with tears.

“Go home, Mrs. Fischer,”

Virgil blinked.

His hand was empty.

He didn’t even realize he was shaking until Patton’s hands cupped his face, steadying him. Roman’s hands were set on his shoulders and Logan hovered just out of arms reach, nearly perfectly still and yet managing to give off the aura of someone fretting.

“Virgil?” said Patton gently.

Virgil shook his head, but he managed to get a weak, reassuring smile out past the lump in his throat.

Patton nodded, kissing Virgil’s cheek.

The quiet broke with a strange tune, people singing. Virgil’s head jerked up, but there was no one around them.

Logan pulled out one of those little flat boxes from his pocket, looking down at it and then going wide-eyed.

“Who is it?” asked Roman, which made exactly no sense to Virgil.

“It’s… ,” Logan hesitated.

“It’s Thomas,”

* * *

It took a significant amount fo restraint for Logan to remain composed as they entered the lobby of Wickhills Rural Hospital. The secretary glanced up and looked back down at his station, before doing a double take and staring wide-eyed at the four of them.

Logan could imagine the sight they must look – two fae and two humans, and all of them rumpled and dirty as well as exhausted. But Logan wasn’t very concerned with the secretary’s sensibilities at the moment.

“My, brother, Thom-”

“Bed fifteen,” he said immediately, “Go ahead, go- go right on through,”

Logan blinked, confused, but then he noticed the way the secretary was casting wary glances behind him. Logan figured he might as well take advantaged of his cowardice. Virgil wasn’t even doing anything other than looking baffled at the various pieces of machinery around them.

The halls were full to bursting; obviously Thomas wasn’t the only one who had woken. Logan’s eyes flitted from number to number, until he found the room and shoved it open, all pretense of composure lost.

Thomas and their parents looked up at him, all of their faces breaking out into smiles, and the relief Logan felt was so intense he felt slightly dizzy for a moment.

“Hey, Berry,” said Thomas, “And you brought your boyfriends,”

Logan didn’t respond, already right next to the bed and shuffling nervously.

“… hugs?” he said quietly.

Thomas’s face split into a blinding grin, and he opened his arms instantly.

Logan forewent leaning in, instead climbing right up onto the bed and outright clinging, his face hidden in his brother’s neck.

“I am certain your lack of self-preservation skills are going to cause me to have a stroke,” he muttered, and Thomas just laughed, though his voice sounded suspiciously wet.

Mom and Dad had leaned over, Dad with his arm around the both of them and Mom gently running the tips of her fingers down the side of Logan’s head. His shaking began to ease.

“Logan,” said Mom pointedly, “Would you like to introduce us to your…,”

She hesitated, tilting his face towards her and mouthed “new boyfriend?” her expression questioning.

Logan was fairly certain he was going to die of mortification.

“You can call me Verge,” said Virgil, giving a little half-wave. Logan gave him a startled look.

“Your parents are  _not_  addressing me as 'Spider Prince,’” Virgil grumbled, looking distinctly embarrassed at all the eyes on him, “It’s just weird,”

If Logan’s parents were shocked by the title, they didn’t show it. The both gave him friendly smiles.

“Lovely to meet you,” said Mom.

“So was that a yes on the boyfriend thing?” Dad asked out of the corner of his mouth. Patton giggled nervously and Virgil was pointedly not making eye contact.

“We have not discussed it,” hissed Logan through gritted teeth.

“Knowing you, you never will,” said Thomas dryly. Roman snorted and Logan glared at him.

“What?” said Roman, “He’s not wrong,”

“Like you’re any better!” jabbed Thomas.

Roman was rescued from embarrassment and the discussion was cut off by a gentle knock at the open door. Everyone turned, and the newcomer shrank back slightly.

“Hey, Elliot,” said Patton gently, “What’s up?”

They swallowed, smiling a little nervously.

“Uh…”

They shifted again, pulling one of their sleeves down.

“This-” they hesitated and and then started shaking their head very quickly, the words spilling out.

“This is gonna sound super weird probably, because I know I don’t really know what’s going on, but I saw you go past my room and I kinda had a feeling, so I wanted to ask you but I don’t know if it’s even gonna make sense-”

“Hey, kiddo, you can slow down a bit if you want?” coaxed Patton. “Whatever you wanna say, you can,”

“Did she find you?” blurted Elliot.

The room became very still.

Elliot shook their head instantly.

“I knew it, I’m sorry,” they said, “I just thought - she was kinda in my head for a while, and I could have sworn-”

“Yeah,” rasped Virgil, and Elliot’s mouth snapped shut.

“Yeah, she found me,” he continued.

Elliot’s shoulders relaxed.

“Good,” they said, “That’s good,”

“And she’s… okay now?”

Virgil nodded.

“Yes. She’s fine,” said Virgil. His voice was very tight, and Logan’s whole body ached with the force of his sympathy.

Elliot smiled, small and relieved.

“Good. Great,”

They waved uneasily.

“Sorry, again,” they said, “I just- I really wanted to make sure,”

“I appreciate it,” said Virgil, and the words had a sort of…  _weighted_ quality to them. Logan felt something spark across his fingers, and all the humans in the room shuddered.

Elliot looked a little paler, but their smile didn’t dim.

“Okay. I’ll… see y'all around?”

“Yeah,” said Virgil, and the others nodded in agreement.

Elliot waved one last time, before turning and, not  _quite_  fleeing, but only just barely.

“What did you do?” said Roman casually.

“I don’t have to answer that,” said Virgil.

“Oh, I beg to differ-”

“Play nice, boys,” said Mom, clearly reflexively, and then she immediately looked mortified at her own statement.

Virgil just raised his eyebrows.

Logan had sat up by now, though he kept one hand firmly around Thomas’s forearm. He felt uncharacteristically shy, but he managed to bring himself to speak.

“Would you possibly… be able to show me how to do that?”

Virgil grinned, wicked and inhuman, and Dad was already sighing in resignation.

“There are ground rules!” he said immediately. “Nothing that damages the structural integrity of the house, and no permanent damages to any people,”

“I can do not permanent,” said Virgil, which did the exact opposite of make Dad relax. Mom looked equally fond and alarmed.

“I’m joking,” said Virgil, “I mean. Mostly,”

“I am attempting to be  _more_  responsible, not less,” said Logan gruffly, “It makes sense to learn some modicum of restraint, rather than continue the present method of ignoring the problem,”

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” said Thomas.

“It’s March?”

“Oh my goodness gracious, I  _know_  I’ve made that joke before, Berry-”

“You have, and yet you fall for mine every time regardless,”

There was a pregnant pause, where Thomas stared at Logan, agape.

Logan bolted.

“Oh, come  _back_  here you-”

“I request assistance,” said Logan quickly.

Patton giggled, shrill and delighted, grabbing Logan by the hand and sprinting with him out the door. Roman grabbed Virgil in turn and followed them.

“Don’t run in a  _hospital_ , goodness gracious-”

* * *

Ms. Gage sat in the rocking chair on the porch, the rest of them scattered across the steps. Dizzy had taken up residence in Patton’s lap, seeing as she was still salty with Roman. Jax sat on the railing, occasionally making snarky comments that Roman or Ms. Gage relayed – when Ms. Gage wasn’t drifting off into half-dozes and then waking herself up with earth-shaking snores, that is.

Patton couldn’t blame her – he felt equally exhausted, and the few hours he’d managed to catch with Roman hadn’t made much of a difference.

Roman looked only a touch better than Patton fatigue-wise, but there was something different Patton couldn’t put his finger on. He seemed calmer. Less like he was going to fly apart at the seams if you touched him.

Which was good, because Patton had snuggled up under Roman’s arm the second they sat down and had yet to move.

Logan was a step down, his hand curled around Patton’s ankle, occasionally running his thumb over it. And Virgil was a step above, inspecting Roman’s open palm in his lap like it held the secrets of the universe.

Patton was crying on and off, but no one had commented. He wasn’t upset – he was fairly sure, anyway – but the past two days had been  _super_  overwhelming, and he was tired besides.

And he couldn’t tell himself to stop anymore, so there was that.

And that made Patton think of the questioning glances Virgil kept sending him, pointed but gentle. Patton was running out of time, but the words kept getting lost on the way up his throat. He’d open his mouth to tell them and what came out would be a pun, or something equally silly.

Roman especially was going to be hard. He might react  _really_ badly, actually, and this thing that had finally come together was so new and so fragile – what they had with Virgil now, even more so. Patton was terrified it was going to be over before it even started.

Nobody seemed inclined to make Patton talk more than he could manage. They accepted his nods and headshakes without comment. Dizzy kept distracting him anyway, shoving her head imperiously at his hand every time he lost his concentration and stopped petting her.

At least now he knew why he wasn’t allergic to her - he’d always just assumed she had some hypoallergenic breed in her, even though he could never think of a tortoiseshell breed with that trait. Magic actually made  _more_  sense, which said something about just how ridiculous their lives could be.

It had been late afternoon when Roman woke, and it was edging toward sunset. That was why they were at Roman’s house to begin with - it was the closest to the center of the forest, and Roman and Logan had wanted to see Virgil off.

Patton wasn’t looking forward to it.

Virgil finally glanced up at the sky one last time, sighing and releasing Roman’s hand. Roman frowned, just this side of pouting.

“Already?” he said.

Virgil quirked a half-smile back, nodding, though he didn’t actually look any happier than Roman did.

“Trust me, I’m not looking forward to it anymore than you are,” he said, “I’m gonna be spending more time around the other gentry than i have in literal centuries. And you might not have noticed, but I hate pretty much all of them,”

“A rock woulda noticed that,” muttered Ms. Gage from her rocking chair, her eyes still closed, “I wasn’t even there, for fuck’s sake,”

“And you’d know all about rock’s, your skull being made of stone and all,” said Roman.

“Weak,” she grumbled.

“You’re too tired to respond, you’ve  _not_  got the high ground here,”

Virgil’s wan smile had become a bit more genuine, and he held out a hand to help Patton up.

The four of them walked into the woods, approximately the direction of what used to be Virgil’s clearing. Eventually Virgil came to a stop. He hadn’t let go of Patton’s hand, and he gave him another wary look.

Patton swallowed.

“It’s not as if we won’t see you,” said Logan, sounding like he was comforting himself as well as the rest of them, “You are hardly going to be occupied 24/7, and the three of us hardly ever leave the town proper,”

Well. That was probably about as good a segue as Patton was gonna get, huh?

“Uh, actually,” he said faintly, “About that,”

Roman and Logan looked at him, curious, and then wary as they took in his expression.

“I’m, um,”

He cleared his throat.

“I’m actually going… with Virgil,”

Logan raised his eyebrows, startled, but Patton’s focused zeroed in on Roman, whose expression had flown straight past surprise into suspicion. His eyes flicked to Virgil, assessing and on guard.

“I asked,” said Patton immediately, and some of the trepidation smoothed from Roman’s face, though not all of it.

“I- why would you wish to go to such a place?” said Logan incredulously. Patton could understand the confusion - Logan had spent his whole life trying to  _avoid_  being whisked of to fairyland at all costs.

Patton gave him a brittle smile.

“I-” his voice cracked, and all three of them lurched towards him slightly, which soothed the aching lump in Patton’s throat.

“I’m a little bit sick of being afraid I’ll accidentally kill someone every time I open my mouth,” he said thickly.

Logan winced imperceptibly.

“And-” Patton looked at Roman then, smiling reassuringly. “It’s not forever. Just until I- I have it under control. It could only be a few weeks, who knows?”

Roman’s eyes skittered across Virgil once more, but Virgil didn’t ignore it this time, reaching out and curling their fingers together.

“I won’t keep him there a second longer than he wants to be,” said Virgil. Roman relaxed, and then immediately looked ashamed of himself.

“Sorry,” he said, softly.

Virgil didn’t answer, just shook his head. He squeezed Roman’s hand, and Roman’s face softened even further, and then before anyone else could speak Roman had leaned across the space and kissed Virgil sweetly.

Patton felt himself go a little pink. Logan gave him a hesitant glance, questioning, and Patton smiled back, the lump in his throat relaxing entirely and slipping out of him as a soft giggle. He leaned forward encouragingly and Logan smiled.

And that led to a whole round of goodbye kisses, which Patton was _definitely_  not going to complain about.

* * *

Stories seem so simple when you’re a child. The ending is always the same.

Slay the monster. Rescue the prince. Save the day. Happy ever after.

But the truth is, there is no such thing as monsters. There are only people. Some of them hurting; some who will hurt others just for the sake of it. Some of them ignorant or afraid or short-sighted. Some of them desperate and alone.

Anyone can become a monster. It’s what you become after that’s important.

Sometimes the wounds heal; sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they scar and sometimes they fester, poisoning everyone around them.

Someday, the valiant knight will go to sleep and not wake up.  Someday a lovely voice will fall silent and never speak again. Someday a changeling will bury his parents, his brother, his nieces and nephews, and the weight of it will never get lighter.

Someday, there will be tears. Endings are rarely so simple as happy ever after.

But today – tonight – is not someday.

Tonight, the moon is full and pale. Tonight, the knight kisses smiles onto his true love’s faces, whole and free, He belongs to nobody but himself, and yes, the people he loves – but it is a love unasked for, and freely given.

Tonight a lovely voice is raised in song and unafraid of the sound. There are soft white hands in his hair, a long-dreaded nightmare turned soft and unassuming with the dawn.

Tonight, the changeling makes every second count, and his brother sleeps soundly, knowing he will return with the sun.

Tonight, a fairy prince no longer mourns what he has lost. All things have their seasons. Winter always turns back to Spring.

It is not quite happy ever after.

But it is so very,  _very_  close.

_The End_

**Author's Note:**

> And so it is.  
> I could not possibly have predicted how long this would get, or the total outpouring of support from all of you. I'm certain i never would have found the motivation to finish this without your enthusiasm. I love you to bits, honestly.   
> I hope I've done you proud.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [fearful of the night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19030849) by [centreoftheselights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/centreoftheselights/pseuds/centreoftheselights)




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